The Inconvenience of an Amiable Man
by JazzyKnickers
Summary: Christmas at Ouran. Haruhi is feeling particularly unfettered by the whole ordeal. Her mind is elsewhere, thanks to their glassed secretary. Haruhi/Kyouya. Lotsa fluff and other such things.


Initially a present for my dear friend Sezzi, but she's given me her divine consent to posting it up here.

It's...hetero. Like...male/female. Which I can honestly say I haven't written in a good few years. So I struggled on, however, at her request.

My third or fourth Ouran fic, none of which have, I believed, even mentioned Kyouya or Haruhi, so their characterization may be feeble, at best. Slightly based on Pride and Prejudice, thanks to a trailer found on youtube

Lets see what you think though. Christmas fic posted in...mid-ish-march, so it may seem a bit ill-fitting.

I really appreciate feedback, reviews, critisism, etc. Slight mentions of implied twincest, but nothing so much so that I should have to hear complaints about it. Certainly as you have been warned.

And while I'm rather good at checking my own work, I'm rather prone to the odd typo. Sorry about them!

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Haruhi's first Christmas at Ouran High School was most eventful, were things to be termed lightly. 

The blonde, self-imposed king of her haphazard afterschool club, though constantly jolly as it were (to a point – she tended to ignore his rather un-necessary mood swings), took a whole new level of intense cheer as the trees arrived and the decorators got to work.

She could see snow falling softly in the windows behind the trees, and sighed. The decorations...well, they were lovely, simply...marvellous. She knew that much. But they were so impersonal. The twins were running around, plying happily with Tamaki, picking out the right shades of tinsel, and which ornaments should be placed where, whilst Hani grinned up at the selection of trees toothily, balanced on Mori's shoulders as he pointed to places candy canes should be placed.

Kyouya, ever the serious one, gave occasional glances at his little tribe of childish men and then went back to whatever may be on that clipboard.

Uninterested in the theme of the third, large tree that graced the room, Haruhi slyly skulked over to the handsome prince, and peered up, trying to peek at his clipboard.

"Is this the same routine every Christmas?" For a moment, she got no reply, but eventually, he slid his gaze up to meet the face of their newest member, and nodded, then returned to his notes.

"You never get involved then?" Another headshake, this one giving her a 'no' in reply. He hadn't even glanced up this time.

"Perhaps you should try, Kyouya-sempai. With your organisation skills, I would be certain that you'd take quite naturally to it." Haruhi was on her tiptoes now, cursing her rather small stature.

"Perhaps I would." Was his blunt reply, shooting Haruhi's valiant attempts at conversation down quite abruptly. She slumped, sighing, and added another miserable glance at the trees. "They don't meet your satisfaction? Surely your own tree is not so..."

Kyouya bared his teeth, feeling awkward. It was not a gentleman's position to insult a girl's prestige.

"No...no, they're beautiful. But we have...At home, we have home-made decorations. You've never had them?"

"No. Obviously not." Disgruntled, the black-haired prince pushed his glasses up and eyed the pseudo-male. She giggled lightly, a beautiful sight, as the rest of his disorderly friends fooled around. He ushered her away, as they opened for their adoring patriots, and she donned her male disguise, putting thoughts of the decorations to the back of her mind.

She hadn't thought about them again for a few days, bar in passing, when she'd cheerily talk about their splendour to the female students (who remained female throughout their day) that chose her as their host.

Never once had Haruhi felt guilty about fooling these girls. They paid for what they saw. It was hardly to be expected that any of them actually KNEW any of the hosts they visited, so what did it matter if they didn't know she was, indeed, female.

Many had fallen in love with the suave, tempting attitude that Tamaki-sempai gave them, and the twin's..."act" was easily eaten up, though it was rather illicit, and, hopefully, unfeasible.

And Kyouya was most certain not as polite as he made himself out to be. She had been on the end of his ruthless tongue once or twice. Though she did not dislike him, certainly not. He was...varied. Not so simply as Tamaki was, nor as easily pleased, but he had moments, smiles, looks, glances that he gave her that warmed her heart and her cheeks, which had been developed by times spent with him, perhaps unwillingly, perhaps by chance.

One of the trees they'd had placed in various positions around the music room remained bare for the few days she remained so thoughtless, though she was given no explanation for this, nor deigned to ask, simply disheartened when it came to the upper class version of Christmas.

But, one day in the week just before they departed into Christmas holidays, she pushed the door open after last bell and was amazed to see a sight before her, Tamaki, a stylish santa, by the looks of things, covered in glitter, Hani, in a reindeer costume, with paint dabbed all over his face, the twins, both dressed as elves, squabbling over a bit of tinsel.

And Kyouya, sitting silently in the corner, looking over papers, as usual. Playing the part of, but not wearing the costume of, the Grinch.

The music room was once again redecorated into a theme, and, as she arrived, Tamaki threw an arm around her, squealing out an almost obnoxious "HARUHIIIII! We're making out decorations! Make one for me! I've made this one for you, my cute little daughter!" to which a heart shaped green thing with glitter in bountiful amounts was thrust into her face, Tamaki's loopy script spelling out the words "Merry Christmas Haruhi!", and she was gaily pushed towards the not so bare now tree, ushered to place it on a branch somewhere around the bottom.

Kyouya moved over to them, calmly saying that today, they'd be helping their patrons make decorations, and that they'd also be placing them on the tree where they may.

Haruhi grinned broadly, letting out a cheerful, festive "Thank you! Sempai!"

The dark man did nothing but nod, but his cheeks seemed to flush slightly, or perhaps it was the warmth of the room rather than any heart-warming Haruhi had managed to do. She gave a final, soft smile, before heading off to change into her 'Mrs Santa' costume, and, upon returning, over to Hani and Mori, plonking herself down and grabbing some card and glue, sparing glances up at Kyouya, who kept his eyes adamantly fixed on the documents before him, though he felt his neck prickle every few minutes, his hands shaking slightly.

The Host Club was holding a ball on Christmas eve, in which Haruhi would be able to don a wig and ball gown, much like the others (all bought for her by the Host Club and their endless pocket) and it was with some nervous apprehension that she faced dancing with every host in the club, yet again.

Her own feelings tended to get swept away in the hectic activities of the Host Club, but she was so doted on, that, in her own private moments, she would relish in her girlish fancies. She was, after all, much like the females that visited and were, in their own right, washed away by the natural charms of the men that surrounded them for their money.

But with Haruhi...there was more than just the charm, and it wasn't for money. She saw them all as naturally as they would ever be.

And for that, she had suffered. Or her heart had.

Yes, there were exceptions. Hani, for instance, who was far too cute to have some sort of attraction toward. She would be perverse, enjoying such juvenile attentions, were it the case. And with him, Mori, who was obviously claimed, existing to serve the cuter blonde of the group.

The twins made her insides squirm, though she'd never admit it to herself, nor them. They were...kind to her, and she, to them. Any matters they had between themselves were entirely private, and, while the flirtatious teasings sometimes left her knees weak, she held no other affections towards them than friendship.

That had, of course left her with Kyouya. And Tamaki. Which, when summarising this all, didn't quite mean the whole group. Perhaps two specific individuals.

In honesty, only one. The taller blonde was not...anything to her. Everyone, she knew, intended for them to be the couple, and, whilst she was the only girl in this all boys group, she had realised that, whilst she could easy have happy relationships with them all (one at a time, naturally. She was not some yielding whore), she did not consider them in such a way.

Certainly, considering the gossips that resided within the school, were she to ever be revealed, many rumours of late night sleepovers and haughty actions on her behalf would reach the ears of everyone. It would seem that way, in the eyes of onlookers.

Those more sensible ones would take one look at Tamaki's behaviour and catch on to some non-existent relationship. He was a simple annoyance to her, never leaving her be when she wished it. All the grasps, the hugs, the heroic attitude, being there when she needed him.

Oh yes. He was a perfect friend.

But Kyouya...

Kyouya, who she had warmed to so quickly once she'd been pinned beneath him, heart racing, body arching slightly, yet controllably. He was...oh he was so handsome.

She could not help the development of THOSE feelings. Not when, at first, Kyouya had been so cruel, so formal with her, enlisting her to pay off a debt, forcing her through a whole variety of things, always looking down at her and her 'common' status.

Oh what a snob he was. And she loved him.

The first realisation, the first time the light bulb flashed on, was indeed at the beach, when, in her squabbles with Tamaki, he had stood by quietly, perhaps judging, perhaps not.

And then..and then, he had thrown her onto the bed, body bouncing in the softness of the mattress, taking her entirely by surprise. Kyouya, the cool, quiet type, had never done something so drastic, and he gazed down at her, body not pinning, but trapping hers beneath him.

And something...something in his eyes, sullen, tempting, made her body twitch, her spine tingle with exhilaration.

A teenage girl washed away in her fantasies.

Of a man...a handsome, dark man...who thought very little of her, it seemed.

Then they'd left, and she shoved those feelings right down, stuffing them into a cupboard and then filling it was frivolous adventures with the twins, with Tamaki, with Hani.

But Kyouya always watched her, lidded eyes catching her gaze whenever the feelings would begin to slip from her grasp, whenever she would risk a glance at him.

He was always watching her.

But nothing changed. Were she to try and complain about some inequality, some thing she was forced to do, he would throw her debt and her penniless status in her face, warming her cheeks with frustration and her heart with disgust at herself for liking such a man!

He was so tempting, though. So very...tempting.

And, were he not so involved in his ridiculous accounts and helpful organisation skills, he would be a perfect gentleman, to many. Perhaps, even to her.

Tamaki's happy brainlessness had drawn things out further, as he dragged Kyouya off to her local shopping centre, and left him there to explore 'her world' with her.

Many revelations were made. Kyouya tried his first fast food, and also realised something about himself.

Haruhi...awe-inspiring Haruhi, was quite easy to be open with, no benefits proposed at this. Though he'd felt quite insulted by her comparison of him to that fool, Tamaki.

She held nothing dear towards the blonde, and he certainly hoped that she would towards him. He had fallen into her trap, which was certainly an ill thing to do. He had been watching her for some time, purely judging her. But she was more than could be judged, he found, these surveys becoming rather like an interesting show.

The girl had skipped home, a helpless grin on her face, and when she reached her small house, she had thrown her purchases down and grabbed a pillow, curling up and holding a secret smile on her lips. Kyouya was...oh how Kyouya was. So very open with her. So very natural. He had shown her that, were there no benefits, when he wasn't surrounded by girls willing to pay for his acted charm, he could be just as much of an interesting person.

The host face, the doting brilliance, the smiling, ailing enthralment he used in the club was nothing compared to the natural Kyouya of nonchalance.

She thought that her 'upper-class' friends were forever upper-class. He had proved this wrong with a careless bite of fast food and a speculation on some false pottery, an unknown prestige held to the woman he had begun to help.

Sheer luck helped him cover this up, but Haruhi, smart, academic Haruhi, who had gained a scholarship to this school on her own wits, had easily clicked.

Perhaps, for that, Kyouya was grateful. He certainly felt different about the girl afterwards. The glances, the looking, the staring at her, became something of a privilege, and, if she met his eyes, they would both turn away and flush, as he saw from his perfected peripheral vision.

It was as though they both held a secret from the club, some illicit relationship, some soft feelings had developed between them. And no one else seemed to know, too wrapped up in their own carefree friendships with the new toy they possessed.

More events only managed to further these feelings, and, by the time of their school festival, Haruhi felt almost insulted upon being attacked for her supposed interest in Tamaki. She was certainly saddened by his departure, as it meant the end of something she held so dear to her heart. Lady Éclair Tonnerre was out of her head.

It had all been so dramatic, and, in a slap that stunned both Kyouya and Haruhi, something had clicked.

Clicked and then began to work, creating a motion as the clogs clicked and turned, developing a whole new complex of carefulness in them both. So Haruhi had stood. Stood, after being so brutally stunned by her new freedom and her audience with Tamaki's foolish fiancée, and spoken against Kyouya's father, almost admitting her feelings towards the dark prince of Ouran High School Host Club.

And, by the end of the whole thing, Kyouya, in his own uplifted bravery, had grasped Haruhi, then abruptly send her packing, pushing her off to save a different man for her own happiness, poor Tamaki (who he would admit had warmed him so) from the fate he didn't deserve.

Haruhi would become his, in this motion. He knew that. As he had at the dance, when Tamaki had so longed to spent so much time with the girl. His favourite.

But he had not been able to do anything but snatch her away from him, if only for a few, stunning moments, where nothing but their hands touched as they swayed through a dream they both wanted, needed.

Kyouya, however, once again, pushed her back to her cheerful prince, and sighed as he took on a sullen attitude, lost in love and all things that confused him.

That had been around October, and now, in the late days of December, the pain still resided in his heart, covered by a mask and a distance from Haruhi he had never even experienced.

Tamaki had won. He had given everything to Suou, despite earning himself something entirely new because of him.

A company, an inheritance, however, did not add up to the wonder of Haruhi, whom he was so willing to do many things for, now that she had no debt. Now that he was so fond of her.

Now that...now that...

She was still quite uninterested in Tamaki, it seemed, though the blonde hardly seemed to care. A relationship, he'd been told, would ruin everything. Which, he mused, was quite true.

But he hardly cared. They'd saved the club once. They could do it a thousand times over, if need be.

The week finished, the decorations were hung, the club was commencing for the last time before the Christmas ball in a few days. As friends, they parted, saying their goodbyes, each receiving small gifts from one another.

Haruhi had made cookies for everyone, all in different shapes, suiting their personality.

Kyouya had got a heart. And a pen-shaped one.

Which could mean a thousand things, considering his heart had leapt, then began to fall as he noticed that everyone, had, indeed, got a heart-shaped one also, wrapped neatly in soft paper with a bow, which they all awed over. Hand-made things? How amazing.

He felt so bitter in the approach to Christmas, and hated himself for it. Haruhi...poor, dear Haruhi who had bewitched him so, yet also remained so naive about that fact.

They did not meet again until the following Monday, returning to the music room to prepare the place for their ball, moving the trees into the salon (with handymen, of course. They were not to do such harsh manual labour in themselves) and redecorating them. The handmade tree remained in the clubroom, standing solemn by the window, which Kyouya, as everyone began to arrive and the hosts made their way to greet them, stared at in pain, knowing he'd done such a thing for Haruhi, paid for a whole trees-worth of decorations, only to have them scrapped. Though the money meant very little to him.

The look of joy on her face was entirely invaluable. There were quite a few up with her name on there, from various patrons, as with all the host members. None, however, were from him, nor was there one with his name on from her. Though it would not have been out of character. Each of them, bar him, had made Haruhi a decoration, all of varying skill and content.

He had wanted to, but knew that, were he to do so, it would mean far more to him than it would to her. And then he would feel so downhearted. He had ended up making one, in the end, but it remained on its own, laying limp in his drawer in the music room, rather than on the tree.

He walked alone, quietly, to the salon, reflecting on things as they were, and giving himself time to prepare. He had assured everything was in order, as it all was, nothing less than what he was expected to have done.

It was all perfectly laid out, as always. Balls were becoming naturally easy to organise as he went on in his school life, thanks to Tamaki.

Haruhi had been given a dress of soft silver, which clinched around her bosom and floated around her feet. The wig they'd opted for was the usual, long hairpiece, which blended perfectly with her own hair, curls and soft waves alike. A festive bow sat in the middle, fastening everything.

Kyouya felt proud of his own involvement in such a good choice, but they had all been commanded away as she grabbed the stuff carelessly and went into the music room to change.

When she had re-emerged, he had found himself, for the first time, breathless.

Breathless over a commoner. How enduringly foolish the third son of the Ootori family was.

The others had complimented her, but he had remained silent, his own, stunned, startled look hopefully saying more than he could ever have said.

She had smiled at the others, but upon looking at him, grinned, then lowered her eyes, cheeks warming.

And his heart jolted. He stepped forward, bowing slightly and offering her his hand, to the protest of their king, but not of the others.

She took it, and he fell in love.

The ball itself was fun, as always, with many of their patrons bringing along partners, or other boys from the school arriving in splendid formalwear, all looking almost as charming as the hosts of the ball, who offered their time around all the women, though Haruhi remained clearly in favour of the men, finding it odd to dance with women when they could see she was one.

Though...seeing she was one and then clicking that she ACTUALLY was female seemed quite difficult for these girls. Many of them asked 'him' to dance, and they did, though it took on a purely friendly manor. They could not do to be swaying romantically together, when her whole body was pricking from eyes that watched her hungrily.

She knew whose they were.

About halfway through, it all became too much, and she slipped away, grabbing a glass of dignified champagne and heading back to the music room to sit down and rest quietly, recovering her composure.

Months, long months had passed since Kyouya had been anything like kind to her. No...that was an utter falsity. Since they had spoken, since they'd ever been alone together.

Since they'd _touched_

Oh the drama of the festival had been enough to drive her to insanity, but she had remained calm, focussing, instead, on the words of her wise father, and the happiness of the other members.

Not Kyouya. Never Kyouya. If she were to, everything would fall. All the smiles she equally dished out, the time she'd spent ruthlessly understanding each member of the host club to try and rid herself of this feeling that Kyouya...oh Kyouya was something so much more than any of the others.

It was, she had figured out, a mixture of his dear charm, and their lacking closeness until recently, that so charmed her into these feelings.

Placing her drink down, still brimming from lack of interest in it, she placed her head in her hands and sighed her heart out, remaining silent until she felt better.

Which, she doubted, would ever come.

An interruption made sure of this, as she heard the heavy doors of the music room open.

She was up in seconds, flinching as she realised who had entered. She could not mistake that perfect posture, that undeniably handsome face glowing in the moonlight.

"Kyouya-sempai..." her voice was nothing more than a murmur, and with apprehension, she leant down and picked up her drink, gulping it down in hope it would fix her voice.

She was not so naive as to feel tipsy after one mere drink of champagne. However, as the man moved closer, her mind melted somewhat, and her body shook in excitement.

"Are you well, Miss Haruhi?"

Formal. So Formal, as always. She held in a breath, then nodded. "It's been an exhausting night. I'm merely taking time to breathe." Or not, as it seemed.

"I see." The soft music of the piano from the salon drifted into through the music room, calm, careful. Kyouya held out his hand once again, a handsome smile on his face that swept Haruhi away, feelings unleashed as she took his hand. "May I have this dance?"

"You may." She swallowed, as he pulled her close and led her through their imaginary ballroom, turning, floating. There was no doubt in her mind that Kyouya had been taught as a child to dance so gracefully. Her own two feet merely followed wherever he went.

She was too mindless, to flushed to do anything but follow, breath coming short and often as she gazed up at him, the fake hair ticking her bare back.

She swallowed again, realising the drink had done nothing to alleviate her...her love.

"Kyouya..." She allowed herself to be held flush to his body, her small stature raised slightly by a heel. She could feel herself longing to rest her head against his shoulder, but it would not occur. She was not brave enough.

He was enthralled by the moment, almost forgetting himself in the moment. He remained graceful, however, stepping where his feet should go, holding her where was modest. But, as the music reached its climax, he tugged her a little closer, and found himself needing her.

Nothing would be the same after this. Their silent moment of sharing their love for one another.

The piano died down and a gentle violin piece though faster, started up.

Reluctantly, they broke away, averting flushed cheeks and longing looks. "T-thank you." Oh her voice was so uneven, taken by the fates that had surrounded them in their calm dance.

"I...have something. I've yet to put on the tree." Kyouya found himself blurting something for the first time in a while, staring down at Haruhi. "It's...it's for you. A decoration."

"Oh?" The man was acting most odd. Almost...lost. Had she done this to him? Was this really Kyouya, who hadn't even flinched as his father had raised a hand to him?

"Yes I.." He didn't finish his sentence, but instead, moved over to the drawer that had been designated his in their small chest and found out the gleaming decoration. He swallowed, and returned to her side, arm going around her waist and ushering her towards the tree.

He took her hand, and placed the decoration in it, a small, plush angel, Haruhi in a white dress, a halo of foil swimming around her head.

She stared, then smiled up at him "Yours is the best," earning herself bright red cheeks from the supposedly composed dark prince of the Host Club.

These men were made to charm. Her friends at her new school were entirely upper class. They didn't know of food expos, nor of pre-packed sushi. They were a world away from her.

And here, she was, taking Kyouya's hand as they shifted around the tree, placing the decoration at the back, where only they would see it.

The hand she had grasped remained where it was, but then, eventually moved up to cup her cheek, as they stood, silently, by the window, the shadow of snow falling dancing over Haruhi's face.

"Merry Christmas...Haruhi." Before she could think of a reply, he leant forward, wrapping her in his arms again, and kissed her, quite thoroughly, greeting her lips with his own in the silence of the music room.

Neither of them had known what to expect from one another, as they embarked on their small time together, Kyouya interrupting Haruhi, but this certainly remained as a fair ending, that same violin music reaching their ears as they remained in embrace, eyes squeezed shut as their mouths remained attached.

Silently, Hikaru placed a hand over his twin's mouth, knowing he would say something and give them away. He always was romantic.

The rest of the Host Club looked on, grinning, or pouting, but all in good nature. And, before the light of the corridor could interrupt their friends, they closed the door and returned to their ball, all in high spirits.

Haruhi settled her head against Kyouya's chest, fingers gripping the pressed material of his suit. "Merry Christmas, Kyouya."

A smile rested on her lips, and his as he leant down and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

Perhaps he should have never doubted that this would occur. He always managed to get what he so desired in life. Though Haruhi far outshone any other achievements he'd had thus far.

The remainder of the ball was almost torture, until it came to the end, where Haruhi was switched from host to host, grinning broadly at each, until she was shoved into Kyouya's arms by Tamaki, much as she had done in reverse at the last ball. She swirled and swayed and waltzed cheerfully with him, whole body warmed by the man she knew so well, she loved so very much, despite there being a world of difference between them.

A commoner and the third son of the Ootori family. Who owned his own pharmaceutical branch thanks to the obscure Host Club that he'd been forced to set up by a beneficial, yet ever so kind friend.

Everything good had come from the Host Club.

How he wished it would never end.


End file.
